CHARACTER DESCRIPTIONS:

Warin
Warin is in his late teens or early twenties, though well past the age of voice cracking or other adolescent embarrassments. His hair is brown and cut short, and his eyes are green. He is around 5'10" tall and his build is average. He is not muscular by body-builder standards, but he is obviously no stranger to physical labor.
Warin is wearing a white poet's blouse and black trousers tucked into black wherhide boots. On his shoulder is a knot which identifies him as an assistant steward at Eastern Weyr. —19 turns.

Kaskan
Thick wisps of ebony fall in half-hazard lengths to shadow rugged features, over-long layers typically in disarray as they feather pale blue eyes, flare about his ears and tickle the nape of his neck. Full lips precede a square-ish jaw, which often bears a dusky shadow of its own. Scars from too many fights mar what would be a handsome visage, most notably one that splices across his left brow stopping just short of his eye. A slight hitch ends his left ear in an oddly curved shape, though it's usually hidden beneath his hair. Darkly intense, his bearing is defensive and watchful, wiry muscles having filled out to create a solid, sturdy frame. Not overly tall, he is a grounded, immovable rock - just as thickly guarded on the inside as he is thickly muscled on the outside - a deceptive impression that suits him well for the panther quick grace that's displayed when he's on the move. —19 turns.

ROOM DESCRIPTION:

The eastern section of the upper bowl is flat. Compared to the rest of this bowl, it's almost polished. The smell of grass seed and dragon oil permeates the air here, occasionally joined by the sweet scent of timothy hay. On the far eastern wall is the entrance to the beast caverns, surrounded by the strong wooden fencing that sections off the Feeding Pens. Further north, the weyrling barracks are nestled into the northeast corner; the whole area is a constant haze of activity. Most of the cross-bowl traffic is further west of here, kept centered by the uneven lay of that ground. Because of that, this area is a popular spot for those who want to spend free time lounging in the sun or taking a meal outdoors. To the south is a large lake.

LOG:

Evening has cast the sky in a brilliant display of jewel tones and shadowed hues topping the tropical greenery like a crown. Pockets of weyrfolk dot the bowl just lounging, visiting, or enjoying a meal or snack. Kaskan is one of the latter, though he sits alone atop an overturned barrel. With a skin in one hand and a redfruit in the other he watches the samples of weyrlife come and go with a relaxed demeanor.

Warin seems to be milling about, not particularly heading anywhere. When he notices Kaskan he looks over toward the lake as if planning on going there now that Kas has no longer need for privacy. At least, Warin begins walking in that direction.

Kaskan spies Warin easily, the other young man prominent in his thoughts since their aborted encounter at the lake. Raising one arm he waves the fruit in the other's direction. "Hey Warin!" he calls, dropping the leg propped against another barrel so Warin can sit if he chooses.

Warin heads over and takes the invited seat, asking, "So, how did it go with Paerin? Is she a fighter now?"

A snorted grin erupts at that line of questioning. "I wouldn't want to tick her off," he admits in vague reply, patient indulgence hovering in his blue-eyed gaze. Cutting to the chase he offers the skin in his other hand as he adds, "But that wasn't as much of a surprise as seeing you here."

Warin nods, and takes a light swig from the skin before handing it back to the guard. After savoring and swallowing he asks conversationally, "Did you know that Vothol managed to impress himself a brown here? He does by V'tol now."

Kaskan watches the other young man closely, wariness hidden beneath an amiable veneer as he tries to assess the other's intentions and/or motives. The news of yet another prominent Crom-lan at the weyr gives him a jolt that shows in a quick flick of dark lashes. "You don't say!" he drawls, tipping his head for a bite of fruit in a way that sets over-long layers wafting across half his expression. Camouflage. Knowing Warin's asperations of being Stewart and Vothol's family connections his suspicions rise. Keeping his tone neutral he asks a leading question, "Things didn't work out in Crom?"

Warin shrugs. "The weather here suits me better, and I figure there's a higher chance of my advancing here. Already the Headwoman has left me in charge once when she left. Back in Crom I was still an assistant-in-training, and there was plenty of competition. Besides, I decided I wanted to take another shot or two at impressing before I decide anything."

"Reeeally?" Kaskan replies with a thoughtful roll, tone interested with none of the doubt he's really feeling. It sounds plausible enough. But then any cover story would. Fruit is swallowed and washed down with a drag on the skin, his critical regard remaining on the dark-haired fellow. Unable to decide from the outside Warin's feelings on Will's demise, he takes another tact. "You've talked to Rio then?"

Warin says, "Not recently. She rather ranks me now, and they keep the Weyrlings somewhat sequestered. As a candidate I did, though, before we figured out who she was. V'tol was rather kindly inclined to her since she opened the way up for his successtion. Until Wreth came along." He seems amused, possibly even faintly sardonic about Vothol's intentions before impressing."

Kaskan finds it harder and harder to submerge his surprise. Kindly inclined? He's spent too much time living with brigands to easily believe that. Warin, however, is quickly making it difficult to remain so skeptical with his forthwright, easy demeanor. Deciding to come out with it he sits up straighter and gives his chin a jerk to clear his view, looking the other young man in the eye. "You've no issues with what happened, then?" No need to specify.

Warin yawns and stretches. "I was never all that fond of Will in the first place." This might be an understatement. "And a gold chose her. End of story right there."

Kaskan isn't sure about that answer but he's willing to give it some thought. Being in the south has definitely changed him already. Not that long ago he would have ran rather than talk to someone from Crom. His light blue regard sets on Warin a moment longer. Then he nods and tips forward off his seat. "Well said," he replies, finding the possible beginnings of common ground in their feelings for Will. "I'm here for a while myself. We'll have to do this again soon." With that he's offering a quick raised-arm salute and heading off across the bowl.